Swords, Spells and Keys
by Burstdragon1
Summary: Three Dovakihn working together? Unstoppable. Three Dovakihn who can barely tolerate each other as is, much less be a team? Different matter entirely.
1. The Warrior

One might be surprised how quickly a greatsword can be swung, as Fusdoval could certainly attest to. His own eyes, much less his arms, could barely follow the steel that seemingly came at him from all directions. Although, to truly understand the severity if the situation, I suppose one would need context.

The name mentioned above belongs to a Nord, one of the many inhabitants of the province of Skyrim. Quite a lot of ofs for such a small area. Nords themselves are a proud race, but for the blonde haired, fair skinned warrior with a greatsword at his throat, pride was the last thing on his mind.

"That shouldn't even be possible." Came Fusdoval's deep, accented voice. He looked up at his trainer, Vilkas, who said nothing. Then he got up, raised his blade, and charged.

See, for those who don't live in Skyrim, Fusdoval is a companion in training. The companions are a group of mercenaries. They're situated in Whiterun, one of the nine 'holds', or main towns in Skyrim. My, there certainly is a lot to explain, isn't there? Ah, well, I'll get to it in dear time. For now, I'll let you off with this: Vilkas was currently teaching Fusdoval how to wield a greatsword. It requires two hands, you see, so it must be great.

 **Goodralisk: Tell that to Cloud Strife.**

 **Burstdragon: If only we could.**

At the moment, Fusdoval was wildly slashing his sword every which way trying to land a hit on Vilkas' thick iron armour, but succeeded only in getting tripped and having to start over.

"How do you move so quickly, despite all the armour and the huge sword? Like, seriously? There's got to be a trick to it."

Vilkas looked thoughtful for a second, and then said, "Yet you wear just as much armour as I. The trick is to use your wrists, elbows, and shoulders in tandem. You don't have a shield to block with, so you can't over push with your sword. But now we're speaking of the mental aspect. You're not quite there yet. Go practice on a dummy until you've gained control of the blade."

 **Goodralisk: Is this whole "sword and shield" thing just written to say that I don't have any idea what I'm doing or something? I thought we weren't going to discuss that.**

 **Burstdragon: No. The part later on where he absolutely wrecks a dual wielder with a sword/shield is the rubbing it in part.**

 **Goodralisk: Dick.**

"Fine." He sighed and headed over to the dummy. As the brown haired teacher sat himself down for lunch, he smiled slightly, knowing how great a warrior he was.

Even as Fusdoval struck the dummy again and again, he was aware of his teacher's nonetheless, he knew how to use a sword, so Fusdoval listened. He stood there for two hours, stabbing and slashing, bringing his sword at the dummy from every angle. just as he had seen Vilkas do to him. By the end of the day, he had perfect control over the blade, and by the end of the next day, he had successfully beaten Vilkas in a duel. Fusdoval was on his way.

 **Burstdragon: So, I'm gonna call it a day there. The later chapters will be much longer, I promise, but the next two are going to be short. This is still the introduction.**

 **Goodralisk: Damn, dude, your chapters have to be the shortest I've ever seen. Or read, I guess.**

 **Burstdragon: Maybe so, but it isn't without reason. Part of that reason being the pizza that just arrived.**

 **Goodralisk: (blank stare) So… You're stopping the chapter… FOR A FUCKING PIZZA?! ….It better be good.**

 **Burstdragon: (Banjo kicks in) That's just the way we animals roll. Anyways, while you eagerly (haha) await the next chapter, why not check out my YouTube channel? It's better than this crap. /Burstdragon1**


	2. The Mage

While the story thus far had been mildly amusing, I feel that some explaining must be done for the next bit to be understood.

In Skyrim there exists nine holds. These are the largest cities, and each is governed by a yarl. Each Yarl, in turn, answers to the High King.

One such hold is Dragonsreach. Located centrally in Skyrim, it's a trading hub as well as home of The Companions, a group of mercenaries descended from the original inhabitants of Skyrim. The Companions is, in fact, where Fusdoval was training just last chapter.

Another important hold is Winterhold. Once renowned for its vast amount of knowledge and magical ability, it's college is now shunned and the city itself is a snow covered mess. Inside the feared mage's college is our next subject of interest.

At the moment, said subject is walking on the ceiling. Well, not quite walking so much as stuck and pacing back and forth briskly.

 **Goodralisk: So... Naruto chakra wall walking?**

 **Burstdragon: Not at all. A completely different concept. Which will be explained later in the chapter.**

 **Goodralisk: C'mon. Using her magic to walk onto surfaces in a manner that defies gravity? Totally ninja magic right there. That and you're pulling a me. Which is RWBY's ideology.**

As she thoroughly studied the scroll she carried, one hand was kept at her side to keep her dark blue robes in check. It was quite a challenge, given how deeply loyal robes are to gravity. But then, the hands argued back, the body around which the clothes were draped also obeyed gravity, but it was fine on the ceiling. But the robes dismissed it, claiming such is the ways and oddities of magic, and continued to try and please their master.

It should be noted that, much like human's faith in the gods, robes' devotion (among countless other objects) to gravity is intensely one sided. Physics is rather an odd fellow, not unlike a pleasant executioner. The kind who takes his job seriously, but without malice. He deals out his punishment to all whom deserve it, but is fine with a bit of leeway now and then. And while many praise and worship him for his many favours, he would much sooner notice a flea upon him. Said fleas are given the scientific name "anomalies", and are documented almost religiously by a select few.

 **Goodralisk: It shall also be noted that in certain circumstances, people give the finger to Physics, and disrespect his rules.**

Now, if you had still been paying attention, you would have noticed that the mage from earlier had finally gotten Physics' attention back. As she picked herself up, a string of rather unkindly vocals spilling out like mice out of a cage, another mage with similar garbs approached.

"...Nailed it."

"Shut up J'zargo. I almost had it that time."

"J'zargo thinks you will sooner die than perfect the spell."

"And I think you're a ********" she replied coolly, pronouncing the asterisks flawlessly.

 **Goodralisk: Yes, because it's SO ******* easy to pronounce asterisks.**

"Although rather deterred, J'zargo would like to see the research put behind the spell. J'zargo thinks it may be useful for other, more potent spells."

"...fine."

As the Khajiit (J'zargo was a Khajiit, meaning he was a man/cat hybrid who stood on two legs, had fur and a cat head, and an odd inclination to sleeping curled on rafters **(Goodralisk: THUNDERCATS, HO!)** ) and the Imperial walked back towards their dorms, Lokrafel began her rather lengthy explanation. J'zargo glanced at a clock hung on the wall.

'It's almost lunch…' he thought.

"So, in short," Lokrafel explained as they ate dinner "it's a combination of a physical attraction spell, to help connect you to whatever surface you wish, and a conjuration of force on top of you. **(Ha, ha...!)** It's dangerous and hard to control, and I broke a few bones trying to get it to actually work, but I'm so close now."

"Cool."

"This could revolutionize warfare."

"Neat."

"We could make an army of mages!"

"Smart."

"You're not even listening!"

"J'zargo stopped listening halfway through."

"..So I've been talking to myself for three hours?"

"Yep."

A little while later, several of the higher-ups, including the archmage himself, were called to the dining hall to try and remove a Khajiit from the ceiling.

 **A/N: Alright. Well. That took forever. This doesn't come as naturally to me as other forms of writing, so don't expect a new chapter every week or something. Also, these first few chapters are just introducing the main characters. So don't go looking for plot progression or something absurd. Anyways, go get a life and stop reading fanfic, you losers. Bye.**

 **Goodralisk: Dude, no offence, but this makes my writing look like a first rate novel. I know you don't like Fanfiction, but up your game.**

 **Burstdragon: This is more atmospheric than yours, asshole.**

 **Goodralisk: Now you're just BS'ing me. Just publish this. But before I leave, this must be said. You play it way too safe. Explore, live a little.**

 **Burstdragon: Also, the fuck does that even mean? I'm sorry for not referencing TFS every paragraph.**

 **Goodralisk: No, I mean that you should try to move out of your comfort zone. Although, TFS helps for humour.**

 **Burstdragon: I'm tolerating Fanfic readers, I'm already way outside my comfort zone.**

 **Goodralisk: Dick.**

 **Burstdragon: Besides, my comfort zone would be writing an essay about the game design of Skyrim (which I'm probably gonna do). Final note: I'm trying to combine a Pratchett style with a D.N.A. style. It's awkward enough as it is.**

 **Goodralisk: You and your obsession with Terry Pratchett.**

 **Burstdragon: Most writers heavily rely on their own favourite writers when getting into writing. That's just part of the process. It eventually stems into their own style, or just kinda fails and we get stuff like Twilight.**

 **Goodralisk:...Fair point. Just put this up. Get it over with.**


End file.
